Chuck Vs His Last Words
by CelticKnot12
Summary: Morgan may think he's invincible now, but Chuck definitely isn't. Tag for Chuck Vs. the Bearded Bandit.
1. Chapter 1

_Why, hello, Chuck fandom! For the first time, I'm dipping my toes into the task of writing a story for what is definitely one of my favorite TV shows. I went with a tag, which I've noted not many of the people here seem to do... Keep in mind that it's slightly... well, quite AUish. Hopefully I've done it justice. Please, let me know what you think and review! Enjoy :)_

Chuck had argued with him. _Tried _to reason with him. But whatever else the Intersect had done when it entered Morgan's mind, it certainly hadn't added a sense of humility. Or rationality.

There was nothing to do but go in after him. He was Morgan's handler. More importantly than that, he was Morgan's friend.

It hadn't felt like it recently, what with that recent ego inflation. There were constant prods about him being the _former_ Intersect, a lack of empathy to any emotion that Chuck himself might be feeling, and a generally selfish and manipulative air that was threaded with superiority.

But he tried to be patient. It _was_ Morgan. Any relationship with the overgrown boy had always needed an immeasurable amount of restraint—mostly from impulses to strangle. Chuck's longsuffering inclination had always led him to deal well with Morgan where others could not, but even that laid-back attitude had been put to the test recently.

The more Chuck tried to be understanding and sympathetic, the more Morgan seemed to fold in on himself and become convinced of his own competence, which, in reality, was severely lacking. Advice from the two most experienced members of the team went unheeded, and even Chuck's carefully timed suggestions on coping with the Intersect were ignored. While receiving the Intersect had initially led Chuck to become clingy and needy, it seemed to have the exact opposite effect on Morgan. Suddenly, the man who had carefully avoided any real work all of his life was handed responsibility on a platter, and decided that, though he had no experience being accountable or maintaining a state of self-control, he was a natural. He didn't need help. He could do it all on his own.

Chuck was working on composing a pep talk, hopefully to follow this unwise incursion. Something about there being no "I" in "team." He'd prefer something else, preferably that he could receive points for originality on, but nothing came to mind. Maybe the cliché would stick in Morgan's mind better.

He started toward the building, carefully charting the way his confrontation with Morgan would progress. They would be in Castle, alone, hopefully, and then Chuck would say, "Hey, man, can I talk to you?" And then Morgan would say, "Sure! You know I'm always ready to listen to my Nerd Herder Numero Uno."

Chuck would smile then, just to make sure that Morgan knew he wasn't trying to be cruel, only caring. "Look, has there been some stuff going on with you?"

Morgan would, of course, protest, but after Chuck pursued the topic a bit farther, he would cave in, and reveal some sort of soulful hurt that was gnawing away at his emotions. He would reveal that he wasn't really upset with Chuck, or with Casey and Sarah for that matter, and then they would hug it out. That would probably be followed by a game of Call of Duty, and then everything would go back to how it had been… except Morgan would have the Intersect, and Chuck would just be Chuck.

He could deal with that, he decided. Just so long as Morgan stopped acting like this and went back to being like old Morgan.

It was Morgan being better than Chuck that was so intolerable. Or maybe not even that so much as him knowing that he was better than Chuck.

From day one, Chuck had had it more together than Morgan. Even when things were at their lowest, somehow, Morgan was less collected than he was. It had always been a staple of their relationship, though probably not a healthy one. Chuck assumed the position of Morgan's role model, and in return Morgan worshiped him for his pathetic feats in the world of, as a more recent example, Buy More employee-hood.

He'd always looked down on Morgan a little, but he'd never let it show. Had he? Maybe Morgan had failed to notice his patronization because of the less concealed contempt most people held for his abilities.

These were the only thoughts that kept him sane now—now that Morgan rubbed the Intersect in his face daily. The only reason Chuck hadn't exploded from frustration was the sympathy he felt for his friend… And the guilt over all those unfair, selfish things that he had done.

So, as he caught up with Morgan inside, he decided on a game plan. Dissuade. Argyle. Nefarious. Gaelic. Escape. Run. Plan DANGER. Granted, only D, E, and R made sense, and maybe the E and R needed to switch places, but he liked the acronym. It seemed to summarize the whole situation beautifully, with a concise description fused in. Besides, "argyle," "nefarious," and "Gaelic" were all good words.

Morgan's argument was unpleasantly convincing, though, and he suddenly found himself holding the gun that Morgan had loaded with tranques.

At least they weren't real bullets.

As Morgan threw himself over the wall and Kung Fu-ed his way over to the security guard, Chuck found himself out of options. It was too late to grab Morgan and leave, so maybe if they managed to keep this fight contained, they could go relatively undetected and escape before anyone else came.

He took a few careful shots where Morgan couldn't cover himself, and within a few seconds, the scene seemed to be contained. He stood, ready to take up DANGER again, when something cold nudged his back. Someone's quick breaths warmed his ear. He glanced to the side, both to get a glimpse of the man who had a gun in his back and to get his ear out of the line of fire.

"Dude! That was awesome!" Morgan was still bouncing around in his post-"zoom" victory dance.

"Morgan." Chuck tilted his head and inclined his eyebrows, trying to catch his friend's attention.

"Chuck, why do you have to—oh." Morgan finally looked over and noticed what was going on—apparently obliviousness was another symptom of the newly dubbed Zooms.

"Neither of you move, or Carmichael gets it in the back." The hard point pushed uncomfortably against his ribs again, and Chuck shuffled forward ever so slightly to alleviate the pressure.

"Look, I know this looks bad, but, um, given that we're reasonable, rational men, I'm sure that something could be worked out." Chuck stuttered through the sentence, trying to plan his next words while he was still working on getting those first ones out. "I mean, really, we're just… a couple of guys… on a burrito call…"

"Chuck, don't worry man! I can handle this!" Morgan lowered his head, and Chuck could practically see those images in front of his own eyes, and wished that he could see them again.

"Morgan, wait, maybe this isn't the right time—"

"What are you talking about, it's the perfect time!" Morgan took a step forward. The gun shoved hard against his back again.

"Morgan, wait!"

"I will shoot." The man behind him threatened darkly.

"He will shoot. I trust him. I mean, I don't trust him in the normal sense of the word, but I'm pretty sure that he'll make good on his promises… er, threats."

Morgan spread his stance, attempting to appear intimidating. Chuck sighed. He did that every time he was preparing a superhero speech. "Prepare to meet the end, because I am your doomsday device."

"Morgan—"

His friend advanced rapidly, and when a gunshot echoed through the room, he ducked to the side.

Chuck was not stupid, he'd had the Intersect for four years; he knew what Morgan had been expecting. In the face of advancing danger, one's inclination was to point a weapon toward the thing that was threatening.

But this security-agent-hired-gun-man hadn't caved in to customary reflexes. The gun hadn't budged from Chuck's back.

For a moment, the heat from the muzzle was more noticeable than the pain that spread through his abdomen. His hand reached around to his front, and his fingers came away moist and red.

Chuck looked up at his friend, noting the shocked horror that spread across his face. "Morgan, buddy, it's okay… I know what you were doing." The world started spinning, and it was too hard to stand steady on his feet. He dropped to his knees and pressed his hands to the floor, struggling to keep his balance.

Morgan must have followed his flash the rest of the way through, because there was a thump behind him and then Morgan was next to him, pushing him into a sitting position and pawing at his stomach. "Chuck? Oh, Chuck, I'm sorry… I thought…"

Chuck laughed, then cringed at the muscle movement it caused in his side. "Morgan. It's okay. I had the Intersect too, I know what it was trying to do."

"Oh, this is so not good. Oh man. Ellie is going to _kill_ me. What am I talking about? _Sarah_ is going to kill me! We need to get out of here."

"_Now_ you listen. See why we have handlers?" He meant it to be funny, but when Morgan ducked his head, he knew that there had been a little too much truth in it for it to be funny. "Sorry. I was trying to be funny."

"No, I get it. Say, does the Intersect have any tips on removing injured people from a dangerous situation?"

Somehow, despite the intense pain, this scene was preferable to the one before it. Morgan was back. "Nope, it's your muscles and your adrenaline." He shifted his weight to get an arm around Morgan's shoulders, cringing at the motion. The dizziness was starting up again, but he was going to have to ignore it if both of them were going to get out of this alive. "Help me up."


	2. Chapter 2

_Okay, so, I know some of you asked for some Morgan redemption, but I decided to leave that to the imagination. Morgan is not going to experience something and then POOF! Be all better. And since I wanted to keep this a short two-shot, I'm leaving that scene unwritten. Please enjoy the conclusion, and don't forget to review! :)_

He wasn't really sure how they made it out of the building, retrospectively. Morgan's considerably smaller frame had made leaning on him quite a chore, and slouching over his injured abdomen did not make the already painful injury feel any better.

Beyond that was the fact that they encountered no resistance on their way out. Chuck wasn't sure if that turn of events was a miracle or could be traced back to Sarah and Casey. Maybe it was both. Who said they were mutually exclusive?

He thanked heaven for the lack of a military or security presence, but exiting the building was still no picnic. The constant tug at his side rapidly became excruciating, and the dizziness would not dissipate. He was actually quite impressed with Morgan, who somehow managed to balance his taller—and doubtless heavier—frame and keep them walking a relatively straight line toward the door.

Morgan's support also apparently came with an astounding number of words. His concern seemed to require constant validation, and a continual stream of inquiries issued from his mouth, debating whether Chuck was as okay as he said he was—which he was, because Chuck had never actually made any claims to being okay; he wasn't _that_ macho—and whether he was dying of blood loss yet. Chuck couldn't make himself answer any of the questions, as a focus on enduring pain had won out over all other bodily functions and his tongue was lying limp and unusable in his mouth. This, however, seemed to convince Morgan that he was very _not_ okay—which, again, was very true—and that, yes, death by blood loss was inevitable. These thoughts were rapidly followed by Morgan's assurances of a dramatic revenge following his death.

Chuck considered reminding Morgan that if he did die, revenge would be the least of his worries and that a certain spy would be more of a focus, but then remembered that his tongue wasn't working. Probably better that way.

The trek to the outside of the building seemed to last forever, but that was definitely because of Chuck's own limited perception. The fact that his eyes were closed and that Morgan's rate of words had increased exponentially certainly was not in his favor for tallying steps or seconds.

He was focusing on not passing out when a blast of fresh air hit his face, and he lifted his head with some surprise to realize that they had made it outside.

"Good work, buddy."

He didn't dare turn to look over at Morgan, but he felt the bob that was almost certainly supposed to be a nod.

They were moving forward again, and Chuck clocked out, trying to find a place that the pain was slightly less unbearable. Maybe if he groped around in his foggy mind for long enough, he'd be able to find a place that, if it didn't remove the pain, created distance from it.

He was still looking for that place when a new, cool, and slightly frantic hand took his free arm.

"Chuck? Chuck, are you okay?"

There was an exchange of murmurs that he could barely hear.

"What happened?" Well, that was untrue, this one was loud. And angry.

"It was a mistake."

"Look, I hate to break up what could be a wonderful game of Let's Find Out Who To Blame, but Bartowski's going to bleed out if we don't get him to a hospital right now."

"Oh, and someone needs to call Ellie."

"Moron, you do it. I'm driving, and she's his wife."

He felt himself being shuffled into a van.

"Oh! Right! I keep forgetting. Wow, this whole Mrs. Bartowski thing really does take some… I'll call Ellie."

There were several loud slams, and then the floor beneath him started vibrating.

"Chuck… Chuck, sweetie, please, look at me." Sarah's plaintive voice was irresistible. He couldn't _not_ look at her.

As his eyes focused, he was surprised to find moisture swimming around in her eyes. "Sarah, don't cry…"

A thumb ran over his cheekbone, like it was trying to wipe away tears. Funny, because it was her face that was growing damp.

"Can you tell me where it hurts, Chuck?"

She was so worried. He had to help her. He put on the best smile he could, which he was pretty sure wasn't very good, because the rate of her tears intensified. "Ya' know, you'd think it'd hurt in one spot… being a gunshot wound… but everything kinda throbs…" His voice was slurring, but for some reason he couldn't control that.

"You need to stay awake, okay Chuck? Stay with me."

"Are you kidding? We just got married. Why would I go after waiting so long?" He closed his eyes again.

"Chuck!" Her voice was panicked.

"I'm not going to sleep… I'm dizzy…"

The hand on his face left for a moment, then rested back on his jaw, salty dampness coating the fingers.

"But how will I know if you're awake if you keep your eyes closed?"

Her voice was too sad. He opened his eyes again. He had to do anything he could to help her. "I love you, Sarah."

"I love you too, but don't think that means I'm going to get into any of this last words crap! You're not going to die!" A tear dripped off of her nose and landed on his arm.

"I wasn't saying my last words… I was just saying that I love you. Not to say that 'I love you' isn't an admirable attempt at last words but… it's so overused."

A real smile twisted Sarah's face. Score one for Chuck Bartowski, spy extraordinaire.

"Klingon?"

"Too obvious. There's no subtlety."

Casey hit a pothole that jarred the van. Chuck hissed in pain.

"Sorry," came a grunt from the front seat.

"No harm, no fowl." Chuck grinned at Sarah, hoping to revive the smile that had vanished when he reacted to the bump.

There it was.

"So, your last words. Tell me about them." The hand on his jaw moved down to squeeze his fingers tightly, and he suddenly realized that she was pressing a thick towel to his side.

"I've got some different plans for some different scenarios… All of them are classified, of course."

She raised an eyebrow, as if to say, "Even from me?"

He hurried to clarify his statement. "Everybody knows that if you share you last words before they are your last, they lose their power."

"I didn't know that. I've never heard that before."

"Okay, so I made it up. But still, it makes sense."

Sarah laughed, and it suddenly occurred to him that as much as he was trying to keep her calm, she was probably struggling to do the same thing.

From his prone position, he caught a glimpse of movement from the front seat. "Ellie's on her way to the hospital."

Chuck would have nodded, but was pretty sure he'd vomit if he tried, so he simply stated, "Thanks."

Tears were coming to Sarah's eyes again. He had to stop them.

"I really do love you."

"And those aren't your last words."

"No."

"Good."


End file.
